What If
by Techliche
Summary: One little game of What if turns their whole little world upside down. Bamon lemon.
1. the game

_Hi all, welcome back to my mind! Story takes place in the 1994 prison world. Damon and Bonnie have been there for about three months._

_*Heads up, this gets a little lemony... a little not safe for work*_

_..._

"So, Damon."

"So, Bon-Bon," he replied.

Bonnie rolled her eyes at Damon's nickname for her, but didn't acknowledge him. She found it easier to just ignore him. "Let's play 'What If'. You can start."

"I don't want to play 'What If'," Damon said from his prone position on the couch opposite from Bonnie.

They had finished their attempt at being productive and trying to trigger Bonnie's magic for the day. The two reluctant roommates were laying around the living room, waiting for motivation to strike.

"Well you ruined Monopoly and Battleship for me, and you're not allowed to ever play Truth or Dare again, so-"

"Says who?"

"Says me. Your dares are ridiculous and your truths make me wanna take a bleach bath, so no, we're not playing truth or dare."

"Why do we have to play anything? Can't we just sit here quietly, pretending we're not trapped with the most annoying person on the planet?"

"Oh _I_ can do that just fine, the question is- can _you_?" Bonnie fired back

"Are you implying I can't sit here in silence?" Damon asked.

"I'm implying that you don't actually _want_ to sit here in silence. So. What if-"

"No, don't act like I'm the one who can't stand the silence, that's you Bennett."

"Damon, puh-lease. You love the sound of your own voice so much you'd talk to yourself if you had to."

"Not true. I just know how much you love my voice and can't get enough of it, so I only talk to sooth your troubled soul. I'm chivalrous like that."

"Ha, don't do me any favors. I'll just sit here. _Quietly_."

And she did.

Damon sat quietly as well for about a minute before he got up to make a drink and then returned to his seat.

After his drink was gone, he reached over and snagged a book off the side table and began to read.

That lasted about five minutes.

And all the while Bonnie lay there on her couch.

She'd catch herself humming a tune and then quickly stop. She found herself playing with her fingernails but then crossed her arms and stuffed her hands under her armpits to stop. To prove she could sit there doing nothing.

It only took Damon half an hour before he broke, and picked the conversation back up like nothing ever happened.

"So, what if we never get back home?"

"We're going to get home," Bonnie rolled her eyes, "Try something less melodramatic, like What if the sky was green and the grass was blue?"

"I think we'd have some very confused birds," Damon quipped. "What if you never get your magic back?"

"I _will_ get my magic back," Bonnie answered matter of factly. She was used to his negativity now after 3 months alone together; she could navigate his moods like a pro.

"What if bourbon tasted like cotton candy?"

"Blasphemer! How dare you?" Damon shook his head at her and whispered, "She didn't mean it," into his glass. "What if… You actually asked a good question."

"Ok, fine." Bonnie had had a certain thought lingering in the back of her mind for a while now. It all started with a dream she'd had after Damon gave her one of his backwards compliments under his breath: '_Goddammit, Judgy how is it possible you can manage to make flannel look sexy? If I wasn't happily taken…'_

He never really finished that sentence, but the heat in his eyes coupled with the way he abandoned her to have breakfast alone, the implication was there and Bonnie couldn't shake it no matter how hard she tried.

"What if…" she hesitated. She didn't know how exactly to phrase her hypothetical question.

Because that's all it was, right? A hypothetical question?

Bonnie took a deep breath and asked…

"What if you-" pause, "-dyed your hair blonde?"

She choked. Totally chickened out. But at least it made him laugh. She was afraid her real question would've upset him.

"First of all, I can rock _any_ look. Second, there may have been a very brief period in the late 90s where I frosted my tips, and yes it looked fantastic and no there isn't any photographic evidence. But-" he paused to sip his drink, "that's not what you really wanted to ask, is it."

Dammit, she was caught.

"You want to know something, just ask, Bon."

"It's stupid."

"What is?"

"Nothing, nevermind."

"You wanted to play this stupid game."

"Well. It's your turn to ask, so go."

"What if you said what was actually on your mind?"

"Ugh, I don't wanna play anymore."

"Oh my god, Judgy just ask the damn question!"

"No!"

Damon sighed and tried not to let the witch make him crazy. He took a page out of her own playbook and sat quietly for a few minutes to allow them both to cool down.

And after a few moments when Bonnie was sure that Damon wasn't paying attention to her anymore she asked her 'what if'.

Very quietly, as if she was merely speaking aloud to herself, she asked "What would you do if I asked you to… help me?"

Damon heard her heartbeat pick up. "Help you do what?"

"You know...like," Bonnie wiggled her eyebrows meaningfully and shrugged her shoulders but couldn't actually bring herself to meet her roommates eyes.

Damon was struggling to understand her question. He looked over at the witch and noticed her foot jiggling and the way she was gripping her arms as they crossed her chest. Her gaze was stubbornly fixed on the ceiling like the answers to a test were written there.

"I'm sorry, what exactly are we talking about right now?"

_Well, Bonnie, you're here now_, she thought. She may as well go for it.

"What if… I were to, like, _proposition_ you?" There. That was clear, right? And relatively painless.

Damon's eyebrows shot up to his hairline and his eyes almost bugged out of his head.

"For what, for sex?!" he squeaked as he sat straight up.

So much for painless, Bonnie rolled her eyes.

"No, for a part in a play- Yes, Damon for… _that_."

Damon was stunned. That hadn't been what he was expecting from the uptight witch. No, not at all. He could admit that it had crossed his mind a few times over the course of their exile, but he always banished those thoughts away before they got him in trouble.

Now, here she was, not quite propositioning him, but was she trying to gage his willingness? Was _she_ willing? Was _he_? _What the fuck Bonnie?!_

"Um, I mean," Damon tried to come up with something before she shut down again. If nothing else he wanted to know if she really wanted to or was this just another hypothetical, just part of the game. "I guess it would depend."

"On what?"

"On how you propositioned me."

"How?"

"Yeah. _How_ would you do it?"

"Seriously?" Bonnie finally took her eyes off the high ceiling and looked over at him, and Damon grinned at her.

"Hey, it's your game- I'm just playing along. How would you proposition me?" he asked as he draped one arm over the back of the couch and kicked his long legs out, getting comfortable.

Bonnie wasn't sure if that was an invitation to actually do it, to proposition him or whatever, and she wasn't even sure she was ready for that. It was just a stupid question!

One she already had an answer to, though.

Because this was the dream she'd started having a couple weeks ago. Maybe the dream was some kind of premonition of this moment..

Bonnie turned her head back to focus on a spot above her as she began to describe her dream.

"Well. I would come downstairs. After a long day of fruitless research and training, as usual. And-"

"So, wait," Damon interrupted, "Is it right after we finish training, or like later?"

Bonnie shot him a look.

"Just trying to get a feel for timing. Go on."

"It's after dinner. Let's say I've just gotten out the shower, you're sitting shirtless as you do-"

"I don't like wearing clothes, sue me."

"-by a ridiculous fire even though it's still 80 degrees outside."

"It's comforting!" Damon argued reflexively. This was a fight they've already had several times.

"Anyway, you're sitting down here, in your chair, by your fire, sipping your bourbon and reading, and I come up and ask if I can talk to you for a second. And you, of course, say something rude like-"

"Like we don't already talk enough, Judgy." Damon supplied.

Bonnie fought a small smile at him, pleased that he was playing along with her little game.

"Exactly. But I pull the book from your hands and tell you it'll only take a minute."

Bonnie closed her eyes, she could practically see the scene unfolding as she spoke, could feel the heat rising between them even though he was still sitting across the room from her.

"Pause," Damon interrupted again. "What are you wearing?"

Bonnie blushed again.

In her dreams she's always wearing this silk nightie, but she doesn't own anything like that here and that's way too embarrassing, so she edits "Um, uh. I'm wearing pajamas? My sleepshirt?"

"The yellow one with Tweety Bird on it?" he clarified.

Bonnie was surprised he remembered what she slept in. "Is that okay? Or should I have worn something else?" she teased with a bit of nervous sarcasm.

"No, you look good in Tweety," he told her casually before kicking his feet up and leaning back, resting his head against the arm of the couch. "Go on."

Bonnie blinked and swallowed. Did Damon really just compliment her? Was that real?

"Um, where was I?" she asked, flustered.

"You wanted to talk?"

"Right." Bonnie shook her head, trying to get back into storytelling mode. "So, I tell you it won't take long, I promise, and you say-"

"Ha! I've heard that before," Damon answered.

"And then I say, 'I just wanted to ask you a question…'"

"Ask away."

"Well, What if-?"

"Really?"

"Shut up Damon!" Bonnie exclaimed with a laugh. Even she had to admit she sounded ridiculous, going around in circles but he was going right along with her. "I would say- What if you weren't...happily taken?" her question croaked out on a broken whisper that she knew he heard loud and clear, even from across the room.

And suddenly, Damon could see the whole scene Bonnie described quite clearly.

Up to that point he was trying to understand where Bonnie was coming from with all this and now he could see it. He could perfectly envision her short hair still damp from her shower, her legs glowing in the light of the fire, her eyes shy and dancing back and forth to his as she nibbled the skin around her thumbnail like she does when she's anxious.

She's for real, standing there in front of him in her oversized Tweety Bird t-shirt down to her knees and nothing else, she wants to know exactly what he meant by that slick comment he made the other day.

She'd been looking altogether too edible in the flannel shirt she was wearing with the ends tied up exposing her flat belly and the top buttons undone showing off cleavage he'd never thought to really check out before back in the real world.

He'd had a rough night, was horny as hell and then here she came looking and smelling delicious- he'd snapped! And then he quickly got lost to go handle the product of his ogling.

'If I wasn't happily taken…' he had told her.

His mind flashed to all the filthy things he had thought about doing to Bonnie in that kitchen, thoughts he has tried to nip in the bud but somehow kept creeping back up late at night when he was trying to think of big doe brown eyes and creamy skin instead of green orbs and cafe au lait thighs.

Thighs that looked so damn silky every time he saw them…

Well, Damon, what would you do? If you weren't happily taken by a woman you left behind in another world, a world that you may not ever return to?

He knew exactly what he would do…

He cleared his throat and glanced over to where Bonnie lay, patiently waiting for a response. Her heartbeat was thumping out of control, as if she were really standing before him and putting herself out there.

He could sense that they had left the game behind, but even so he had always prided himself on his brutal honesty during those games. He held nothing back. Had no shame about anything. Part of the fun was seeing how far he had to go to make Bonnie squirm and then ban him from ever talking about that subject again.

Now, he was conflicted. He knew she wanted the truth, that's why she setup the game that way. But what if (ha) he went too far and she never brought it up again? Or what if he went too far and things went from just hypothetical to physical? And which one did he want?

He could feel the tension coming off of her in waves in the few moments it took him to formulate his answer. She was fidgeting now under the pressure of the mess she'd started. But Damon could never, ever, let her off so easy.

"Well, I would tell you that if I were not happily taken by the woman I am in love with, I would be free to take your hand… and pull you closer. Till you're standing between my legs and I can look up at you. And tell you that... I would do anything you wanted me to."

Bonnie's heart was crashing around in her chest making it hard to breathe.

_Shit, that was hot,_ she thought.

She had begun thinking he would never answer and that he must be thinking of a way to let her down gently, but that was the opposite of a let down.

The way his voice dipped lower, nearly growling at her made her clit jump and her thighs snap together. She resisted the urge to rub her already aching nipples.

She envisioned herself right back in that dream, the fantasy she replayed over and over in her mind. She continued.

"And I would say… I just want you to help me feel good," she sighed. "Remind me I'm alive."

Damon heard the edge of pain in her voice and wanted to reach out to her. That pain was a mirror image of his own and thus far he had no idea how to get rid of it. Liquor and picking fights with the only person he could were his only options and now he realized Bonnie was dealing with the same pain and anger, she was just dealing with it better.

Or so he'd thought.

She continued, interrupting his thought process, "And I would lean in, place my hand on your shoulder and say, real close to your ear…'Would you? Would you help me, Damon?'"

Her voice whispered across the room to him, but he felt it ghost across his neck like she was really standing next to him. It sent a wake up call straight to his cock, and he looked down to see his member moving in his pants.

Damon had already decided he wouldn't quit first so he answered her question.

"And I set my glass down on the table-"

"-I drop the book I'm still holding," Bonnie inserts.

"And I'd look up into those, unbelievable green eyes of yours as I slide my hands up the back of your knees."

"My hands run up your arms, grip your shoulders, to steady me as I climb into your lap…"

"I pull you closer, tug on the collar of your Tweety shirt and"

"You'd kiss my neck, my collarbone. While my hands push through your hair, scratch your scalp, your back until you-"

"Kiss my way to your lips, I'd try to resist and fail."

"And I'd kiss you."

"I'd kiss you back, tasting your lips. And my hands-"

"-all over my body, under my shirt-"

"Getting rid of your shirt," he corrected.

"Pulling my shirt off, and holding me tighter-"

"Kissing your chest, licking and sucking on your nipples,"

"God, yes," Bonnie murmured, her fingers pinching her own tight nipples.

Damon paused, at the sound of Bonnie's sigh and chanced a glance at her for the first time since she started her little game and the sight of her working her hands around her own breasts turned him on even further, his hand reflexively rubbing his dick through his jeans.

He watched her for a moment, marveling at the picture she made before continuing,"My hands slide to your ass, squeezing, grinding you down on to..me." He edited himself; he wanted to say 'down onto his rock hard dick' but didn't want to be too bold all of a sudden.

Bonnie, however, heard the stutter in his voice and blinked her eyes open at him, catching his gaze as she continued rubbing her nipples. She watched as he did the same to his dick, slowly massaging himself.

"Are you hard yet?" she asked.

Damon wasn't sure if she was still talking in "what if?" context, but he answered honestly, "I've been hard since I first saw you in Tweety. I grind you down on my dick, nothing between us but two layers, your panties, my sweats-"

"What makes you think I'm wearing panties?" Bonnie smirked.

"Oh woman," he sighed.

"I take your hand, guide it exactly where I need it"

"Where's that?" He asked, wanting to hear her say it.

"Between my legs, your finger slides right up in my pussy; it's so wet"

Damon watches Bonnie as her hand disappeared beneath the waistband of her jean shorts. His vamp ears perked all the way up and listened and when he heard that telltale gush of Bonnie fingering herself, he had to force himself not to move from that couch and go to her, replace her hands with his.

"So wet," he repeated, dragging his eyes back up to hers.

When she finally caught his eyes again, she deliberately spread her legs wider, splayed out on the couch, "You slide another finger in,"

"Two," he barks.

"Unh, two fingers," she adds two of her own.

"Nice and slow," he directs and she slows her ministrations slightly, her eyes drift shut again, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

"I work my fingers in and out, as you ride my hand, begging for more," he guides her

"Don't stop," she begs

"I speed up"

Her back arches off the couch, as her fingers pump into herself with one hand, while the other tweaks her nipples under her tank top.

She watches Damon now as he pops the button on his jeans and pushes his hand in to grasp his cock following her lead.

"More," she moans, and Damon's hand pistons harder as Bonnie's writhing on the couch, the scent of her arousal filling the room. "Unh, Damon," she whispers.

"Come on, Bonnie," the way his voice caresses her name, "Cum for me Bonnie," he encourages her

"I'm so close, Damon, don't stop…" she keeps her eyes on him.

"Keep going, Bonnie," Damon growls, he's so hard, he knows he's seconds away from blowing his load but he wants, no he needs to watch her cum first, "Harder Bonnie, fuck me"

"I am I am oh god, yes yes yes unnnnhhhhh _fuck_," her eyes rolled back and her thighs clenched around her hand and her whole body shook into silence.

Damon quickly finished, his nut busting all over his stomach, watching Bonnie's O-face as she rode the wave of her self empowered orgasm.

Each of them were breathing heavy and slow to return to their senses as the gravity of what they'd done settled over the room like the musk that filled the air.

Bonnie's eyes fluttered open and landed on the ceiling, her smile slipping away, as she slowly slid her fingers from her gushing pussy, wiping them on the inside of her shorts.

She glanced over at Damon and smiled at catching him in the middle of cleaning himself up as well. At least she hadn't been alone, he was just as turned on by that as she was.

Neither of them knew what to say at that point, even Damon couldn't come up with something quippy or snarky as he watched her climb to her feet.

There were so many things she could say or do at that moment, and she dithered for a second, contemplating.

Damon propped up on his elbow and waited- Would she regret it? Tell him to never mention this again and pretend it never happened? Or would she invite him upstairs to finish what they started… she looked like she was leaning towards the latter…

When she finally spoke it was soft and shy again, a simple "Goodnight, Damon" before she turned and made her way to the stairs.

Damon collapsed back on the couch and closed his eyes. _What the hell was that??!_

Bonnie stopped at the bottom of the steps and Damon stopped breathing-

"What if that happened for real?" she sighed to herself.

Damon's eyes blinked open

...

**A/N: Hey yall. Back again. Had this little diddy sitting in my folder and couldn't help finishing it. Tell me what you think. There is another chapter, it will be up soon..**


	2. talk it out

What If… part 2

She hadn't ever been blind to Damon Salvatore; she knew he _oozed_ sex appeal. But he was completely insufferable and usually that was enough to remind her of what an asshole he was, no matter how attractive she found him.

But after that one little remark _(...if I weren't happily taken...)_ and about two and a half months with no one else to look at, Bonnie saw Damon differently now.

She now noticed how he responded when she wore different outfits. He either ignored her or he got along with her when she was in sweatpants and baggy shirts, but if she came down in her shorts and tank top, like today, or her swimsuit, he was more irritated with her. Picked fights, found excuses to storm off.

So, Bonnie got really comfortable in fewer layers.

She also started enjoying running into him (shirtless) in the middle of the night.

It wasn't every night that she was awakened by a nightmare (usually of the ghosts of dead supernaturals clawing at her from the other side) but when she did, she'd go down to the kitchen for a glass of water. And no matter how quiet she tried to be, inevitably Damon would wander in, his shorts slung low on his hips, torso and feet bare, shuffling past her to grab a drink too. They never said much, Bonnie was busy trying not to ogle, they just hung out for a minute till Bonnie was ready to return to bed.

But after Damon's little comment though, it wasn't nightmares that she woke from, it was the most erotic dreams her subconscious could imagine. Dreams that starred the one and only Damon Salvatore.

Dreams she'd started obsessing over...

Dreams that had led to the most…. Embarrassing and sexy experience of Bonnie's entire life.

She had never orgasmed like that before, and Damon hadn't even touched her! Hadn't even gotten close to her, but the intimacy they shared was unbelievable.

The things Bonnie had done to herself… in front of him… oh god, she cringed just thinking about it.

After she left him in the living room she escaped upstairs locking her bedroom door and the bathroom door behind her. She started the shower and when she finally felt like he wouldn't hear her, she sank to the tiled floor in utter disbelief and tried to calm her racing heart.

"Holy shit. Ho-ly shit, did that just happened?" She whispered into her hands, and the smell of her arousal was a vivid confirmation that: yes, girl, you did that.

She stood back to her feet and took a look at herself in the mirror. Her light brown skin was flushed and sweaty, her short dark hair was wild from thrashing around on the couch. Her damn nipples were still standing at attention, her jeans still unbuttoned.

Oh yes, that had definitely, just happened.

Bonnie stared at her reflection, and let her mind drift, racing over every detail of what had occured. Every word Damon spoke, every look they shared, every moan that passed between them. Hearing him bust a nut right in front her. Her calling out his name like a prayer.

Bonnie snapped her eyes open. She was turned on just thinking about it…

She quickly stripped out of her clothes and jumped in the shower and scrubbed herself clean, trying not to think about that fantasy they shared.

And failing.

It was all she could think about.

As she dried her hair, she re-imagined coming down the stairs in nothing but a Tweety t-shirt.

As she put her lotion on, she imagined it was Damon's hands caressing her skin.

And as she lay down in bed, she wondered if she had just ruined their entire lives for a stupid game of What if…

….

_'What if I weren't happily taken?'_

The thought crossed his mind for the dozenth time that night as he paced the floor of the library.

He was there, drinking by the fire, as he was accustomed to doing every night around this time, but tonight couldn't be more different.

Tonight he kept waiting to see a five foot, two inch, former witch, tiptoeing over and crawling in his lap.

After he'd finally gathered the strength and will to move his body, he dragged himself upstairs to his shower.

He paused outside Bonnie's door and listened to the shower running.

Okay, that's good. That's normal.

He would cling to normalcy in the wake of his whole little world being turned upside down.

_...if I weren't happily taken…_

That damned question haunted him as he went through the motions of bathing and dressing in a pair of clean pants.

His hand paused as he started to pull out a shirt from his drawer.

Now, ordinarily he wouldn't think twice about leaving his room without a shirt on, but now he considered what Bonnie would think it meant. What _signals_ was he sending. Did he want to send _any_ signals?

_Oh, good lord._

His mind went round and round, conjuring images of Bonnie half naked on a couch, completely naked in his lap, his bed, the kitchen counter- he couldn't stop. He pictured having her on every surface of the house and with every new place he fantasized, he knew he should be fantasizing about someone else.

_Elena_.

Because he was happily taken.

He was.

_Wasn't he?_

I mean, it's been 3 months now and that's basically forever for him. If they haven't gotten out by now, were they really ever gonna get out?

The way his mind was racing between women, he required liquor to sort through the madness.

Unfortunately, the hooch was all downstairs.

Damon sighed.

He shook his still damp hair out of his face, straightened his back and threw a trademark smirk on his face before opening his door and venturing out of his room.

It's like he believed his thoughts of Bonnie were so loud and strong they would summon her into the hallway immediately, but her door remained shut.

_No, that's good_, he reasoned. He needed more time before dealing with her anyway.

Damon retreated downstairs to the scene of the crime-

_No, no, no!_ No crimes were committed, because he hadn't touched her! Had not laid one single finger on her, he defends himself to... himself? To his absentee girlfriend?

He stopped at the threshold of the living room. He could still smell Bonnie's heady scent lingering in the air, and his lips quirked up in a genuine, though filthy, smile as he recalled watching her finger herself to the sound of his voice.

When his hand threatened to dip down and adjust himself in his pants, he did an about-face and moved instead to the library, an area free of sexual tension.

Mostly.

His mind drifts back to how 'The Game', he decides to call it, all started.

Bonnie'd told him he couldn't sit in silence, and she was right.

"The little witch is always right," he said aloud.

Damon poured himself a glass of bourbon and because he was feeling particularly out of his mind at the moment he pored two more: one for his brother and one for his best friend.

Because this was not a mess he could sort through alone.

(Long before he was ever trapped in a hell dimension with an evil witch, he'd developed the habit of conferring with an absent Stefan. He knew his brother so well, he could clearly imagine the way he would scold him for his most recent indiscretions.)

"_Damon, how could you let that happen_, You might ask," Damon perfectly mocked his younger brother's incredulous tone.

"Well, Stefan, not everything I do is my fault, or solely my fault! This was entirely on Bonnie, she started it!" He took a sip.

"And don't tell me that sounds childish, I know that, but I'm serious this time, it was all her… and like I said, I never touched her, so did I really do anything wrong here?

He shrugged and started another pass across the room.

"Yes, it felt wrong, Ric…. But at the same time… it didn't. If it had really felt wrong she would have stopped, she would've said something, right? I mean, it's Bonnie, the judgiest person I know, so what does that tell you?"

Damon turned and retraced his steps, "Tells me she is way more vulnerable here than I thought. Because the old Bonnie, Judgy Bonnie, would never do anything like that. Not in a million years."

His mind again slips to the image of Bonnie, knuckles deep and writhing on that couch and he gulps down his drink trying to chase the thought away.

"_If it wasn't wrong then what are you so ashamed of?_ Well, Stefan, I'm not ashamed. I have _no_ shame…. What I have is a beautiful girlfriend back home waiting for me…

"_But what if… you didn't_? That, my friend is the question of the hour. Because if I were not a happily taken man, I would already be balls deep in pussy three or four times over, without question, not standing around with a hard-on arguing with an empty room!" Damon refilled his glass. "But, I _am_. I am happily taken."

"_But are you sure about that_? Ha, am I sure, brother? Am I sure? Elena died to be with me, of course I'm sure! That's real love.

"_Then what is Bonnie_, you ask? Well, Bonnie is… confusing as fuck, that's what Bonnie is." He resumed his pacing and rambling.

"Bonnie's gorgeous and strong, powerful, albeit not currently. And she hates me! I thought Bonnie loathed me!"

"_Well, something tells me that's changed recently…_ Yeah, no shit, Ric, but when the hell did that happen?" Damon wondered.

"_Probably around the time she started prancing around with no bras and underwear for shorts_… Jesus, now I sound like a prude! But it's true. She never dressed like that before, even when she was dating Little Gilbert, the dweeb. No, I have never seen her act like this. What am I supposed to do? Obviously I can't sleep with her." Damon pauses. "Well, I _shouldn't_ sleep with her," he amends.

"But, _why_ shouldn't I sleep with her? She's an adult. Clearly she wants to. Apparently I do too, it's a win-win!

"Oh right" he snaps his fingers, remembering his girlfriend. "I'm happily taken. By Elena. Who isn't here.. and doesn't ever need to know..

"_No, Bonnie doesn't deserve that!_

"You're right, she doesn't. But what am I supposed to do if she comes back to me, begging me to _help her feel good?_ I am Doctor Feel Good, and I specialize in amazing sex! God, I could make her feel soo good.

"_But m__aybe she just needs someone to talk to…_"

Damon laughed at that thought, "Nah, I'm pretty sure she just wants sex. And I could do that for her. I mean c'mon, Stefan, I owe the girl my life! If it weren't for her, I would be _dead_ dead, instead of just tortured dead. I practically _owe_ her an orgasm. Or, like, a whole night of them… Mmm, I wonder what she feels like… I bet she tastes good, too."

Damon found himself staring at that usually unremarkable couch. A couch where he's actually made love to several different women, but none of them come to mind now.

Only one.

Bonnie Bennett.

He's drawn in by her scent where it lingers in the fabric.

"What's one screw between friends?" he asks his imagined brother and friend as he crosses the room. "Maybe now we could actually have a mutually beneficial friendship, instead of her coming to my rescue all the time…. Maybe it's my turn to help her out.

"Is that all it would be, though? Just friends with benefits? Trust me, I can separate feelings from sex, brother, don't you worry."

He finally stretched out on the couch, still slightly warm from the witches body heat.

"Bonnie is in very good hands," he assured himself, before closing his eyes and allowing that fantasy to retake him.

/

By morning, Bonnie had talked herself out of moving back into her childhood home. She was tempted to leave and hide forever, but the idea of being that alone terrified her.

No. She would have to face her problems head on.

Starting with breakfast.

If only she could get her feet and hands to cooperate. For the last ten minutes she'd been trying to convince herself to go down and eat, because Damon was obviously cooking again. It smelled like he was waving pancakes and bacon in the direction of the door to lure her out. She wouldn't put it past him, especially since it was working.

_What are you so afraid of, Bonnie? What's the worst he can do, make fun of you? He does that literally everyday! You can take it! Better than take it, you can dish it right back, because you were not alone in that room last night, he was right there with you and if he wants to act like he wasn't, you've got ammo for days! Bring it Salvatore!_

Bonnie had finally psyched herself up and was ready for whatever Damon would throw her way and when she finally threw her door open she looked down to find a breakfast tray fully loaded.

"Oh thank god," she sighed in relief and grabbed the tray, slamming the door with her foot.

/

Damon smirked from down the hall.

He figured she would chicken out on coming down and having breakfast with him. It wasn't the first time she'd skipped a meal to avoid dealing with him.

So he had cut her some slack, this was a very weird situation, and brought breakfast to her.

No big deal or anything. He just figured she would be hungry after skipping dinner last night too.

He shook his head and chuckled. How can someone be brave enough to dive headfirst into the unknown, but can't handle sharing a meal?

How can she be so brazen as to look him in the face while she gets herself off, but can't face him now?

Well, they live here alone, so eventually they will have to deal with it, and Damon figures Judgey is just feeling a little embarrassed. It'll wear off, she'll come begging for more, he'll get her off for real and then they can go back to normal.

Wham bam.

No big deal.

/

That's what he thought at 9:00 that morning.

By 2 in the afternoon he was done waiting for her to get it together.

Bonnie still hadn't come downstairs and he was starting to worry about her. She was blasting her radio so he couldn't even hear if she was breathing on the other side of the door.

Damon pounded on the door and waited a brief moment before jiggling the handle.

"C'mon Bonnie, you've had enough time to process, let's just do the awkward 'about last night' talk and move on."

The music stopped.

_That's a good sign, at least she's alive_, Damon thought.

He waits for her to open the door.

She doesn't.

"I don't want to talk about it," he heard through the door. "I want to forget it happened."

"_Can_ you forget it happened?" Damon asked from the other side.

"I can damn well try."

Damon rolls his eyes. This wasn't how he wanted to do this. He had imagined at least being able to see her face and gage her reactions to direct him in how he should respond. "Can we at least not talk about it face to face?"

Bonnie sighed. He wasn't going away. She guessed she was lucky that he left her alone for as long as he did. Times up, Bennett.

_Fine_, she thinks. _I need a real drink anyways_. The bottle of wine she had stashed up here was long gone by now.

She checks her reflection in the mirror one last time, smoothing down her hair, checking her makeup and- _why am I primping for Damon?!_ She quickly turns away from herself and goes back to the door.

_Here goes nothing._ Her hand shakes as she turns the knob and even though she's been trying to prepare herself all morning, she's not ready for the way his chilly blue eyes warm up when they finally land on her.

Damon keeps his gaze trained on her face, and attempts to decipher the emotions he reads there: anxiety, embarrassment, shame… okay that's mostly what he expected.

"Hi," he smiles. "How ya doin'?"

"I'm...fine," she manages to get out, clearing her throat.

"Good," he replies.

She nods in response, and they stay like that for the longest moment, silently nodding.

"Ok, well-" she starts closing the door again, but Damon's hand comes up to stop it.

"Oh come on, Judgey! How long do you plan to hide away in your room?!" Damon almost shouts.

"As long it takes, Damon!" Bonnie shouts back.

"Takes for what?"

"For me to be able to look you in the face again without wanting to be swallowed by the earth!" Bonnie pushes past him and heads for the stairs. If they were really doing this, she needs that drink. Now.

Damon follows her, and can't help but notice that she's wearing a giant Tommy Hilfiger sweatshirt and sweatpants, and immediately he pouts, missing the shorts and tank tops.

"What good would that do? Then I wouldn't have anyone poke fun at," he quips, dragging his eyes off her ass as they reached the living room where Bonnie almost enters before violently changing course and going to the kitchen. Damon had to laugh at that, his reaction was only slightly better.

"Stop laughing at me Damon, this isn't funny!"

"Why not? It could be funny if you let it," Damon's eyes followed her to the refrigerator where she pulled a giant bottle of vodka from the freezer.

"Where is there humor in any of this," she asked while standing on her toes to reach the rock glasses in the cabinet. "Because all I can see is shame, mortification, and-" her fingers just barely grazed the cup she wanted, "more shame."

"Need a hand?" he offered.

She threw him a look over her shoulder and huffed, "Nope," before snagging a coffee mug from a lower shelf.

_Damn_, she thought,_ that was almost a normal interaction for us. Maybe this won't be so bad._

"Who has time for shame, Bonnie?" Damon approaches her and she inhales a quick breath but he just reaches over her head and pulls down two glasses and sets them on the counter in front of her and she breathes again only after he backs away.

"You know what they say: shame is like everything else; live with it for long enough and it becomes part of the furniture."

"Who says that, that's not a real saying," she mumbles while pouring their drinks.

"No, I'm, like, ninety-five percent sure I didn't make that up."

Bonnie swallows a mouthful of liquor and pulls a face and pours another.

"Look," she says ready to launch into the speech she's been working on all day. "Last night, things got out of control and I took things a little far, and I apologize, okay." She finally turns back to look at him and manages to maintain eye contact this time. Gulp. She started rambling, "I just- I've been under a lot stress, you know, and I've been having these dreams, and clearly I need to lay off the late night erotica-"

"I knew were watching porn up there!" Damon exclaims. "And you told me to get my mind out the gutter and called me a perv!"

"What can I say Damon, I'm not as liberated as you are, I still suffer from good old fashioned shame like I'm supposed to." Bonnie shrugs and tipped her drink back again, feeling it burn on the way down her throat.

"Who says you have to be ashamed of what we did? Or of watching porn?" He takes the glass she poured him and downs it in a single go.

"It's erotica, there's a difference," she said pouring them both another.

"No Judgey, there's really not," he leaned against the counter beside her grinning.

"Great, my shame increases and you're laughing at me. Real nice," she grabs her glass and the bottle and sits at the kitchen table and pulls her knees to her chest.

"Again, why are you ashamed of we did?" Damon brings his glass with him and joins her at the table, spinning his chair around to straddle it backwards. "No one's here but you and me. No one's gonna know about it."

"I'll know," Bonnie said into her hands where they covered her face, "and you'll know."

"But I'm not judging you. So you got a little hot and bothered during storytime. It happens."

"No it doesn't, Damon. That doesn't happen to me. I have never… in my life, done anything like that. Even with someone I was dating." Suddenly she laughed, the alcohol catching up with her, "That was literally some 'Other World' shit...'cus we're in _another world_."

Damon was glad to see her smiling again, even if it was only at her own terrible joke. If she could start to laugh about it, maybe she could explain a few things.

He pours himself another shot and they just look at each other for a moment, each gaging the other's expressions.

Bonnie looked away first, feeling flushed as she remembered watching those eyes on her…

"So.."

"Are we gonna be cool, about this?"

"I am absolutely… gonna be.. cool." Bonnie managed to struggle out. Yeah, real cool.

"Yeah, okay," Damon grinned one of his more devilish grins.

"Oh my god, don't do that!" Bonnie covered her face with her sleeves.

"Do what?"

"Look at me like you've seen me naked!" Bonnie said, feeling like her bones were turning to mush. She wasn't sure if it was the four shots she'd taken in 15 minutes or the way he was looking at her, but lord.

"I am not looking at you like that," he begged to differ. No, he was looking at her like he wanted to see her naked. He couldn't help it, he was interested now.

"Good, don't."

"I'm not!"

Bonnie lifted her head to glare at him and make sure he wasn't looking at her wrong. She sighed. "This is gonna be _weird_, isn't it? Shit. I didn't wanna make it weird, I just…"

"What were you trying to do then?"

"I don't know.."

"See, I don't believe you," Damon poured another round. "You must have had some idea about how it would go, when you asked me What If"

"No, I didn't, I swear-"

"Bonnie." His look told her he was calling bullshit.

And he was right.

She heaved another sigh.

"Tell me," Damon pressed.

"Well, I guess… I've been thinking about it, dreaming about it for a while now."

"Dreaming about what?"

"You know what," she peeked up at him briefly. "But it's just dreams, stupid little fantasies, you know."

"'Fantasies' plural, huh?"

"Stop making fun of me," she whined.

"I'm sorry, it's just so easy," he smirked as he rested his chin on the chair back.

"I just thought that I'd put it out there, see what happened," she said. "I should have known you'd take it too far."

"Me?! You started it!"

"I just asked a question! One little question, _you_ turned it to the raunchiest version of story time ever."

"You're delusional if you think that was my doing, but whatever. Blame little ole me," Damon climbed to his feet and pulled a bottle of bourbon from a shelf and cracked the seal on it. "Unlike you Bon-Bon, I can take the heat."

He collapsed back in his chair, facing forward now and kicked his booted feet up on the table.

"I'm sure you can," Bonnie replied, goosebumps rising on her arms under her sweatshirt. She was already regretting wearing it, but she'd felt naked all day and had the urge to cover up.

She was glad she did though, when Damon's eyes returned to her and lingered somewhere below her chin.

"So have you decided?" he asked.

The way his voice dipped let her know he was serious now.

"Decided what, Damon?" She replied warily.

"When you're going to proposition me," his voice was sultry and matter of fact. Like he already knew it was coming, he just wasn't sure what she was waiting on.

"You think I'm actually gonna…" Bonnie's face flushed.

"Look, whenever you finish being ashamed of what you want, come find me, I would gladly help you out." There was not a single trace of humor in his voice or in the way he looked at her as he stood and took his bourbon elsewhere.

Bonnie moaned in frustration and rest her forehead on her knees.

"God help me."

**/**

**AN: There's a lot of dialogue here, and even a nice long Damon soliloquy. I hope that was clear that he's imagining a conversation with Stefan and Ric as he works through things. I like to think that Damon doesn't trust his own conscience much but he does trust Stefan's. Even if he doesn't follow that conscience, he hears it.**

**Do you think they should really cross that line into the physical? Or just go back to being frenemies. Can they go back?**

**Oh the angst of it all! Review please..**


	3. friends or benefits

Damon thought for sure that putting the ball back in Bonnie's court would be enough. How much more clear could he have been? He was ready, willing, and very able to make her fantasies happen.

The only thing missing from the equation was Bonnie.

After he left her to sit with his offer to '_help her out'_ he sat in the living room, waiting for her to come collect on the deal.

It didn't take too long to figure out that that wasn't what she had in mind.

After about 10 minutes of hearing her grumble and sigh to herself, too low for him to make out, he suddenly heard her moving around- chair scraping the floor, shoes shuffling, empty bottle clinking against its brothers in the trash can, more footsteps, and a door creaking open- before she called out to him:

"I'm going for a walk!"

And then the back door slammed.

He was on his feet and out that door before he even had another thought.

"What do you mean you're going for a walk?"

"Jesus Damon what the hell!" Bonnie yelled as she slammed into him and nearly lost her balance.

"Where are you going?" he demanded.

"I'm going for a walk, can you move?" Bonnie squeezed around him and started to set out around the front of the house.

"Are you serious right now?!" he followed right behind her. "Why are you leaving?"

"Because that's what happens when you walk from once place to another, Damon. You leave." Bonnie crossed her arms and kept her pace.

"I thought we were being cool. You storming out of the house doesn't seem like you're cool, Bonnie."

"I'm not storming out of the house, you psycho. I left the house, maybe a bit hurriedly, but not because I was storming." She kept her gaze on the road in front of her.

"Then where are you going?" Damon asked trying not to sound as annoyed as he was.

"I told you, I'm going on a walk."

"With no destination in mind? That's classic storming off, Bon."

"If you must know, you insufferably nosy infant, I am going to walk..into...town. That's where I'm going. So, you can leave me alone now," she shooed him away.

"And what inspired this little trip into town if I might I ask?"

"Do I ask you where you go everytime you leave the house? No, I don't, because it's none of your business!"

"Bonnie, stop!" Damon grabbed her arm to swing her around

"What?!" she shouted.

The look on Damon's face was doing a lot: frustration, hurt, anger, and some good ole fashioned bewilderment as well. And something else that was new to her… fear?

Bonnie sighed and tried to remember that not everything could be solved by yelling at Damon. Especially not this time.

"Look, I just need some fresh air. I cannot breathe or think in that giant house, with you in the other room, listening to me breathe and think."

Damon started to roll his eyes and deny that he was doing exactly that but she interrupted him, saying,

"Oh, shut up Damon, I know you. And it is weird, by the way. But that's not going to stop you."

_Right again, witchy_, he thought with a shrug.

"Yeah, I thought so. So, I am going to walk to the end of your ridiculously long driveway. And then… I don't know, maybe I'll keep going or maybe I'll turn around and come back. But I'm not storming out or running away this time. I just-" she huffed a huge sigh. "I need a Damon-free minute. Okay?"

Damon looked like he wanted to argue with her some more but decided against it. He knew when she was being stubborn and digging her heels in that he wasn't going to sway her to do things his way.

So, he silently backed away from her and held a hand out, graciously allowing her to pass.

"Thank you," she said, already tired. God, he was exhausting. "I'm not going to be long, I'll be back in a few."

She continued walking down the drive, finally alone as requested, but turned back after a few strides to call to him where he stood watching her go, "Don't forget to start dinner."

He nodded in agreement.

"And stop looking at my ass, go inside!" she ordered with a smile in her voice as she continued walking away.

Damon grinned and tilted his head to the side for a better view.

"I mean it, Damon!" she yelled, not even bothering to look back.

Damon laughed out loud and when that sound hit her ears she looked over her shoulder at him and saw him finally moving towards the house with that lazy sexy walk of his.

She shook her head and kept going.

...

Bonnie slowed her stride as she approached the end of the long narrow drive, a path she knows well now after coming and going often, both here and in the real world.

In Damon's defense, and she has no idea why she's defending him, she has done an awful lot of storming out of that house. It was basically her go to exit strategy.

That is until the thought of leaving him behind started to carry a different weight.

Being alone in this empty world had changed the way Bonnie and Damon related to each other. They relied on each other now. Back in the real world they could easily seek out other people when they didn't feel like dealing with the snarky homicidal vamp or the judgmental and stuck-up witch. But here they didn't have options, they only had each other.

So, in a way Damon flipping his shit when Bonnie walked out makes sense. She has tried leaving before, but even then it never stuck. That was before "the game" though. Maybe he thought she would leave for good this time.

Bonnie kicked a good sized rock as she slowly strolls. Leaving for good hadn't even crossed her mind as she left the house today. Hadn't crossed her mind for a while now if she's being really honest. Where would she even go? What would she do without Damon?

Now that's a scary thought. I mean there's relying on someone and then there's depending on someone, and Bonnie learned a long time ago that she could depend on no one but herself.

Bonnie doesn't want to depend on Damon for anything, she's been burned by him before, too many times to count.

But that was before right? Before they died and were lost here. Now they're different right?

Or maybe she was different (obviously she was different, last night was proof) and Damon was still… _Damon_. Only looking out for himself.

He claimed he would 'gladly help her out', but he must be as pent up and horny as she was_ (..if i weren't happily taken…)_

So, why should she accept his offer to bang out their frustrations? That wouldn't solve anything in the long run, and besides he is happily taken! No matter what he or she wanted at the moment, he had a girlfriend back home and she… she had Jeremy. Though in truth, Jeremy hadn't factored into her argument until she began looking for reasons not to sleep with her best friend's boyfriend.

Because that's what it would boil down to in the end, Bonnie fucking Elena's boyfriend and Damon cheating on her with Bonnie.

So what was the point, when she would be the one getting hurt for the bajillioneth time!

No!

Bonnie was pretty confident that she and her vampire roommate could go back to being strictly roommates, and maybe even friends now. But they couldn't be more.

And that little spat they just had, that was the most normal they've been all day. All she had to do was focus on what a childish dick he could be and they should be fine.

It would be easy.

Damon was the absolute worst, she thought with a smile as she turned and headed back to the house, feeling confident in her decision.

...

Damon was feeling pretty confident as well.

Although, for him that was not so unusual.

He was confident that Bonnie just needed time to come to terms with their new arrangement before she actually acted upon it.

Damon was the exact opposite. He made a decision to do something and wanted to carry it out immediately. Nothing good came of waiting. If you waited, you could change your mind, or they could change their mind, or they could turn out to not be locked in a tomb for 150 years after all- the point is, why wait? They had nothing but endless time on their hands and he could think of several new and interesting ways to keep them entertained.

But, Damon would give her time or space or her 'Damon-Free Minute' if she needed it so badly.

So long as she came back.

In hindsight, he supposed he came off a bit strong when she tried to leave with no warning, but that's what being stranded in hell will do to you- it gives you abandonment issues.

He sighed to himself. No, the abandonment issues didn't solely come from being locked in this hell dimension. He'd gotten those from all of the previous women in his life. _Thanks a lot Katherine_.

But he could turn it around. He eventually let Bonnie wander off on her own and had to trust that she would return, but it wasn't easy. If she hadn't managed to reassure him with a smile and orders to go fix dinner he probably would have just followed her, from a safe distance… unseen.

Damon shook all of those depressing, borderline stalker, thoughts from his head and returned his focus to his dinner preparations. He was making a parmesan crusted chicken dish that was gonna blow Bonnie's mind.

If she ever made it home again. It was getting late…

But as soon as that thought escaped him, he heard the sound of her opening the front door.

"I'm back!" she called out and paused waiting for his reply.

"I'm in the kitchen," he sang out, and started banging around, trying to look like he had been busy for the last 20 minutes and not just waiting for her.

"Hey. Smells good," Bonnie entered the kitchen to find Damon nonchalantly stirring a pot of rice. "Like, really good."

He shrugged and turned his back, hiding a smug grin as he pulled the dish of chicken from the oven. "Eh, it's no big thing, just some chicken."

"And here I was expecting another one of the frozen lasagnas again, but this is way better," Bonnie eyed him with a building suspicion as she took in the rest of the meal. French bread, pan seared green beans, rice pilaf… "You really went all out."

"Yeah well," Damon tipped his ever present glass of bourbon to his lips and let his eyes drift up and down Bonnie's slim form, taking in the sweatshirt she now had tied around her waist showing off the flimsy tank she'd had underneath. "You demand and I deliver."

Bonnie's tongue darted out to wet her lips as she felt a rush of heat rise up her neck. Oh boy. She chewed on the inside of her cheek for a moment, willing an appropriate response to drop out of the sky, but found nothing.

Thankfully Damon supplied her with an out, "Why don't you go get cleaned up? Dinner will be ready in ten."

"Yeah, okay," she nodded, and shot him a weak smile before disappearing. Damon listened as her feet paused and her heart sped up and she let out a breath she'd been holding.

He smirked into his glass and turned up his radio, letting the sounds of Luther Vandross cover the witches footsteps.

_Luther_? Bonnie thought._ Now he's just messing with me. _

As Bonnie continued upstairs to grab a quick shower, it finally occurred to her what Damon was doing.

_What, is he trying to seduce me?_ she laughed in disbelief.

She tried to dismiss that thought and focused on everything she'd decided outside. _Friends, no extra benefits_.

When she finally returned downstairs, without the bulky tracksuit this time, Damon was already sitting at the table with a plate set and ready for her.

"Damon, this really does look amazing," she complimented him again forcing herself to maintain eye contact.

Damon's smile was the normal level of cocky as he responded, "Well, no surprise there. I am amazing at everything I do, Bonnie."

"And oh so humble," she replied as she dug in and ate with a gusto.

They ate in silence for a bit, before she caught Damon staring at her.

"What?" she asked around a mouthful of chicken.

"Nothing, I'm just wondering how you can breathe with that much food in your mouth."

"Ha," she flipped him off and took a sip of water.

"So," Damon began as he leaned back in his chair. "How was your walk?"

"Good."

"Just good?" he pressed. "Nothing interesting happened?"

"Interesting like what?"

_Like you realizing you can't deny how badly youwant me_, he thought.

"I don't know Bonnie, you tell me!" he said.

"Tell you what?" she was a bit bewildered at his sudden hostility.

"What are we doing!" Damon exclaimed. "Are we fighting, are we fucking… are we really just gonna ignore the sexual tension between us?"

"There has always been sexual tension between us, Damon! That's nothing new!" Bonnie rolled her eyes dismissively.

"What?! No there hasn't!"

"The minute you met me you flirted with me. You'd bat those pretty blue eyes and tell me how much you needed my help. It didn't work then and it's not gonna work now."

"I wasn't even really trying then…"

"And this is you trying now?" She laughed. "With flirty looks and innuendos? Some decent music and a, I'll give it to you, a delicious meal. That's what you think it takes to win me over?"

She didn't wait for hom to answer that, she just barreled right over him, "First of all, there's nothing to win because you and I will never happen. We can't go down that road."

"Why not?"

"Because, eventually we will get out of here! And there are people at home waiting for us. For you. They are going to get us out."

"No, Bonnie-"

"Yeah, Damon- they will. And when they do, you'll be glad we didn't do anything rash. Something we can't come back from…"

"Bon," he spoke slowly, so she would understand. "I am talking about a strictly physical, mutually agreed upon, friends with benefits situation. It's just sex!"

"I understand how fuck buddies work, I'm not an idiot. I just don't think it would work for us," she concluded

"Why not?" he asked again.

"Because that literally never ends well! Someone always gets hurt! One person ends up wanting more, the other person doesn't, and then they can't even be friends anymore… it never works."

"But…"

"We make for a really good fantasy, but that fantasy isn't real."

"But it could be."

"You're just horny and starved for sexual attention, believe me I get it. It's making us crazy. You just gotta fight it off, Damon.

"Here, I'll do the dishes," Bonnie stood and collected the plates from the table and left the confused looking vampire sitting there.

He continued sitting there, wondering how his approach had gone so wrong, until Bonnie came back for their glasses, "Are you pouting?"

He stood up and left the kitchen without another word.

"Oh, don't pout, Damon, it's not a good look for a man your age!" she teased.

...

Bonnie woke later with a start, her body flush and sweaty. Her breathing was fast and ragged. Her left hand stretched out over the empty sheets to find the dream lover she craved while her right hand retraced the phantom trail of kisses along her bare neck and shoulders.

With a groan, Bonnie rolled over and sat up, blinking the last of her dreams away. The latest in her series of nighttime musings was no less intense than the previous ones, but this time Bonnie felt particularly shaken.

When her breath had returned to normal and the sheen of sweat covering her body had mostly dried, she climbed to her feet and grabbed the silky robe from the foot of her bed and loosely wrapped it around herself.

Barefoot she padded downstairs to kitchen, her eyes nearly closed, still trying to cling to the delicious details of her dream even as they slipped away from her mind like sand in a clenched fist. In the end all she was left with was a feeling. The feeling of being desperately desired and needed and needing in return.

She grabbed a glass from the cabinet above her head and filled it with water from the sink, her hands still trembling slightly. She lifted the glass to her lips but a hand shot out from behind her and took the glass for his own, drinking it in two long gulps.

Bonnie stood stiff as a board, begging her body not to betray her as Damon turned on the faucet with his left hand and held the cup under the stream with the other: trapping Bonnie between his arms, daring her to make a move.

And as hard as she tried not to, her body had plans of its own.

Damon's head dipped forward and Bonnie shivered as his cool breath tickled her neck.

Her head tipped back until she made contact with his shoulder and she turned her face to the side to look at him. In the muted light of the pale moon she could make out the hard lines of his jaw, the sharp point of his nose, the deep and dark set of his eyes. His chin as it finally came to rest gently on her shoulder.

Distantly she registered the water cut off and the clink of the glass being set on the countertop, but it was all background to the feel of Damon pressing his body against hers. His hand lay flat against her stomach and, meeting no resistance, pulled her back into the hard planes of his chest.

Bonnie's pulse quickened as she stroked her fingertips over the back of his hand, gently gliding over veins and knuckles, his giant daylight ring, to slide her fingers between his.

Her body hummed as those feelings of desire and need, fresh from her dream, came colliding back to her, but there was something even stronger stirring, spreading a heat through her chest, through her heart.

Damon's left hand was burning a trail through her robe as it ran down from her shoulder blade, past her elbow, caressing her wrist, to finally slide his fingers between hers as he brought her hand up rest on his right bicep.

She was wrapped tightly in his arms and swaying softly from side to side, with Damon's chin tucked into the crook of her shoulder.

"Damon," she sighed into his ear.

She wanted nothing else but to stay right there in his arms, held tightly, and she now knew what it was that was warming her heart. A feeling she hadn't felt in so long that it hard to identify. _Safety_, but even more so _comfort_.

…..

Bonnie was in tears when she woke up in the dark, early hours of the morning, realizing she'd never left her bed at all. Never been downstairs, and never ran into Damon. She cried like someone had died, again, and she cried until her tears ran dry. She hardly understood why she was crying, she only knew that the empty feeling in her chest wasn't going away this time.

..….

**AN: So no! They haven't crossed that line, even though Damon really wants to, Bonnie is hesitant to put herself out there like that. But I don't think its because she's being a prude. But that hug? Embrace, whatever you want to call it, y'all she's still feeling that.**

**She may have her reasons, but she's also having feelings... And you know Damon won't go down without a fight.**

**Tell me your views!**


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